


Melting the Ice Queen

by MistressRenet



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asuka Lives, M/M, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-11
Updated: 2005-02-11
Packaged: 2018-10-18 19:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10623849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressRenet/pseuds/MistressRenet
Summary: Working a case that seemed simple, Yohji found a lot more than he expected. Action! Intrigue! Sex! Aya in a sailor suit!Many, many thanks to emungere for beta work and for being my sounding board. All apologies for the title, which is still hilarious and terrible.





	

Yohji lit another cigarette.

This had to be the worst strip club in Japan. Maybe in the Eastern Hemisphere.

Forget the fact that their target was probably cheating on his wife; Yohji was gonna beat the crap out of him for having such shitty taste. The drinks were watered down, the whole place looked moldy, and the dancers....

Yohji was trying not to think too hard about the dancers.

Maybe the 'featured performers' would be better, but he wasn't holding his breath.

He and his partner hadn't been able to figure out what the target had actually been _doing_ at this club; shady business deals were as plausible as looking at naked men or having quickies in a place like this. As the client had only wanted to know if her husband was cheating on her, Yohji only had to find out if Honda Saito was trying to pick up guys; that was easier, in a way. Financial investigations were a pain in the ass-- so much paper-chasing for so little return; for sex, he and Asuka usually got by on their natural charm, which they had plenty of.

At nine the performances started. The guy who ripped his cop uniform off onstage didn't give Yohji much hope for the rest of the night. Where the fuck was Honda? He was a damn regular, according to his credit card receipts. Yohji tapped his pack on the table and wondered if it really was possible for someone to die of boredom.

"He's gone in," Asuka's voice said in his earphone, like a dream come true. "Keep a lookout."

Honda must've headed for the john first, because it was another ten minutes before he _finally_ showed up at the bar; medium height, not unattractive, three-piece business suit with tight, perfect creases. Yohji walked over with his beer; Honda had already ordered a gin and tonic.

"Hey," Yojhi said, sliding next to him.

"Hey," Honda said, smiling a too-friendly smile up at him. Yeah. This job was gonna be easy.

"You meeting anyone here?"

Honda shook his head. "Though I guess I am now."

"Any place we can have a...private conversation?"

"Yeah," he said. "C'mon, let's...talk."

Honda rested his hand on Yohji's back as they walked, guiding him to a back doorway. Yohji resisted his natural urge to throw the guy off. He liked guys okay, just not sleaze jobs who cheated on their wives and were so desperate they didn't even bother with small talk.

The hallway they walked into looked more like backstage than your typical sex club's back rooms, so Yohji was a little prepared when the 'private room' revealed two guys armed with nightsticks.

Yohji'd fought in close quarters before, but rarely _this_ close, and he really hadn't been expecting a beating. He got lucky and managed to land the first blows; the goons didn't look like they'd been expecting anyone to fight back, either. He mashed an elbow into the first guy's mouth and grabbed his arm, twisting him around to slam his bulk into the second guy. Their heads knocked together-- not enough to knock them out, but enough to stun them so Yohji could get them down and out.

"What's going on?" Asuka was demanding in his ear. "Yohji, are you okay?"

He reached out and grabbed the target before he could bolt. "Don't think you're going anywhere," he hissed. "What the hell's going on?"

"Should I come in there? Say the guy's name if you want me to come in there."

"I-- I can't talk here," Honda stammered. "It's...it's not safe."

Yohji noticed the handcuffs and the roll of duct tape on the bench in the room. "What the hell is this, some kind of kidnapping operation?"

"Get me out of here," Honda said. "I'll talk to you then."

"You'll talk to my partner then," Yohji said. He grabbed one of the plastic cuffs and pulled Honda's hands behind his back. When his hands were secure, he taped his mouth. He did the same to the two goons, duct taping them together for good measure. "Come on," he said. "Let's take a walk."

The side door he'd noticed on the way in would be perfect; he could just wait for the coast to be clear and not see anyone. "I'm coming out," Yohji said. "Take this guy, figure out what's going on. I'm gonna keep an eye out here."

"Are you sure you should--"

"They tried to kidnap me," Yohji said. "I wanna get to the bottom of it."

"Okay," she said. "Be careful."

"Side door-- west of the building. You ready?"

"I'm ready," she said. "Let me know if something goes wrong, okay?"

"Call the cops," he said, shoving the guy in front of him. "Don't--"

"Don't tell me what to do," she threatened. "Just be careful. Don't fuck up and we won't have to worry."

"Yes, Mommy," he said, and opened the door.

He did a quick scan; no one around. Good. He darted forward, opened the door, and shoved the guy into Asuka's waiting arms. "Two guys were waiting to grab me," he said. "Get names if you can."

She nodded. "Be careful," she whispered again, as he turned around.

Someone was coming down the hall. _Shit._ If he ran out of the club now, it'd just look suspicious. And he wanted to know what was going on. Someone had just tried to kidnap him; he wanted to know _why_. So he shut the door and stood his ground.

It was one of the dancers; a lanky redhead wearing a schoolgirl uniform laughably unsuited for him. He glared at Yohji and walked right by him, not even a flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. _You're either incredibly dumb or a great poker player,_ Yohji thought to himself.

He'd better stick around and see if he'd been made. Redhead couldn't be any worse than the last dancer, anyway; at least he looked like he had a decent body.

He went back to the bar, ordered another drink, and pretended nothing had happened. The bartender didn't seem surprised to see him, which meant he probably wasn't in on it. Huh.

He leaned back and watched the stage, hoping intently Redhead was on next. Redhead had been kind of pretty, in a kick-your-ass kind of way.

He wondered if he could use a lap dance as a tax write-off.

He thought about asking Asuka but decided against it; she was probably 'interrogating' that poor bastard back in the van. Guy probably thought he'd gotten off easy, having a woman question him.

Yohji smiled. Little did he know.

The DJ stood up and shouted out an introduction: Aya.

The audience seemed kind of excited.

"Hit Me, Baby, One More Time," started, and Aya came out on the stage. It was the redhead; tall, lanky but muscular, thighs barely covered with the short-short skirt of a schoolgirl uniform. And he was pretty good-looking, especially up there in the lights. He had tiny little gold glasses on his nose, now, too, in case the schoolgirl outfit hadn't hit enough kinks.

The schoolgirl thing wasn't really Yohji's scene; he liked 'em older, with a little more experience. But Aya was older-- he'd seen that much backstage-- and that short skirt was pretty hot. The blazer was a dark blue color that complimented the red hair nicely, though the pigtails made Yohji snicker a little. Aya's body moved smoothly to the rhythm, hips swinging, his open palms traveling slowly down his body. Yohji wondered what color his eyes were; he couldn't tell from the bar.

Aya pulled his hair out of the pigtails first, shaking his head to loosen them out.

"How much for a lap dance?" Yohji asked the bartender.

"With the Ice Queen?"

"Yeah."

The bartender gestured. Yohji handed the cash over. "Remember not to touch him."

"Against policy?" Yohji glanced over and saw Aya slowly sliding the glasses off.

"That and he'll beat the crap out of you." He grinned. "Give me another thousand and I'll make it private."

Yohji winked and slipped the money into the guy's hand.

"One Ice Queen, coming up," the bartender said, as Yohji turned his attention back to the performance. The blazer had been unbuttoned and tossed aside, and the shirt was translucent enough to just show Aya's nipples.

Aya was _pretty,_ there was no doubt about it. His expression was sour, but his lips pouted nicely, and as he unbuckled the belt of the skirt, the audience began to get more enthusiastic.

He walked over to a table for tips and darted away as soon as the cash was in the skirt, showing just a flash of white panty as he moved back to the stage.

Yohji noticed someone else watching; a heavyset guy in a suit standing by one of the doorways. His hair was salt-and-pepper grey, and he had white whiskers that curled around the sides of his face. He watched Aya with...almost a proprietary interest.

Huh.

"Who's the guy over there?" Yohji asked the bartender.

"Owns the place. Yeah, he likes to watch Aya. Can't say I blame him, if I didn't know what a dick the guy was I'd be all over him myself."

Aya undulated like a snake and pulled another good-sized tip from a guy. Yohji was starting to wish he'd sat at a table. _Thinking with your dick again, Yohji,_ Asuka's voice said in his head. She was always after him about that.

Aya ripped his shirt off and threw it behind him without looking. He had a nice body. _Really_ nice. Lean muscle, wiry arms. Looked like he did kendo, maybe.

Asuka's voice again: "Yohji, just checking in. Haven't gotten much out of the guy-- if there's anybody in there you could shake down, go for it. I think I'd better call the cops in; those guys'll be waking up."

He grunted affirmation, and silently hoped the cops took their time. He was still pissed, but...but this guy was worth watching.

He'd never been much for strippers-- he enjoyed them aesthetically, mind you, but pure fantasy had its limits. He'd always been more for picking up lovers in clubs, even dives, where you had a chance of touching, tasting.

Aya, though...there was something about him. He looked like you'd _never_ touch him, even if he was pinned underneath you. Something completely untouchable and unattainable.

It was getting Yohji _hard._

Aya glanced over at him, for just a second, and their eyes locked. Aya's narrowed, just a little. _Shit,_ Yohji thought. The scale had definitely tipped toward poker player.

And then Aya was sliding off his skirt, tips bulging out of his panties, and Yohji was wondering how much it would take to get Aya hard, what _did_ get Aya hard, what Aya's thin lips would look like wrapped around his cock. He slid his hand into his lap and stroked himself through his jeans.

The panties were translucent and showed him off pretty well. He was fucking _beautiful._

 _Focus on the job, Kudoh,_ Yohji thought to himself. _Or Asuka's gonna kick your ass._

The club owner seemed pretty enthralled too, Yohji noticed. He was looking at Aya like he owned the guy. Hell, maybe he did.

Maybe Aya was gonna try to cut him down the minute they got into the back room for the lap dance. Or maybe Aya was trapped, and would whisper a plea for help in Yohji's ear....

He grinned at the foolishness of his own fantasy, and watched Aya retreat, panties off but held strategically over the merchandise-- along with a fistful of tips. Yohji wished he'd been paying attention when the guy made _that_ move.

"You ready?" the bartender asked.

"Guess so." He stood up and followed the bartender. It was a different hallway than the one he'd almost gotten kidnapped in; he hoped that that was a good sign.

The bartender opened the door on a plush-lined room, with a metal folding chair. Yohji was a little disgusted with the cheap chair but then figured that way he knew he wasn't sitting in anyone else's body fluids.

He sat down and waited.

Aya came in pretty quickly, dressed again, but only in the shirt and skirt-- maybe the panties, Yohji couldn't tell. He stood in the doorway waiting for the song that was playing to finish.

"Not much for conversation?" Yohji asked. The bartender _had_ called him the Ice Queen.

Aya glared. "I suppose I could ask you what you were doing with Honda."

Yohji bit his lower lip.

"Are you a cop?"

"No," Yohji said. "Look, I--"

"I don't care," Aya said. "Takatori's in charge of the whole thing, but he gets other people to do things for him. Nothing you try'll stick to him."

"So what are you doing here? Can't escape his evil clutches?"

"There's something I want," Aya said firmly. "I'm not about to risk that for some crappy excuse for a cop."

"I'm not a cop."

"They usually dress better," Aya conceded, as the song finished. "Put your hands down on the chair."

Yohji complied.

The next song was loud, an aggressive bump-and-grind, and Yohji smiled as Aya straddled him.

"Can I touch your skirt?"

"No," Aya said. His thighs felt hot against Yohji's jeans.

"I could help you," Yohji said. "With...the thing you want. If it's not illegal." He grinned up at Aya. "I'm a professional."

He got an eyeroll in response. Yeah, no one ever got a lap dance with this guy for his sparkling personality, that was for sure.

"You don't seem to be having much success on your own."

"I'm doing all right," Aya said, his lips a hard line. He swung his hips, thighs pressing into Yohji's, and Yohji leaned back and let Aya ride him for a second. He smiled and thrust up slightly into the touch.

"Hey," Aya said, "no touching."

"We're already touching," Yohji said obstinately, and wiggled underneath him again. "I just moved."

Aya scowled, but Yohji could feel him getting hard, and that was _great._

"You don't get off on the power part at all, do you?" Yohji said, moving just a little, wondering how much he could get away with. "You want somebody to push back."

"I don't want _anything,_ " Aya snarled. "Especially not from you." But he was still moving against Yohji, almost touching his dick now. "And there's nothing you could--"

"You'd be surprised," Yohji murmured, thrusting _up_ again, and oh, _yeah,_ there it was. Oh, _beautiful._

"You won't be able to pin any of this on Takatori," Aya said, sliding back on his lap so that beautiful _hard_ dick was gone. Yohji groaned. "I told you."

"Then I guess," Yohji said, tipping his knees up so Aya slid closer again, "I'll just have to-- oh, _shit--"_ Contact again, and _damn_ it felt good-- "keep-- oh-- coming around until--"

Aya slid back again. "I'm not a damsel in distress," he said. "Despite the costume." He swiveled his hips.

"Touch you--" Yohji stammered as Aya moved. "Please-- let me--"

"Song's over," Aya said, and slid off his lap. "And I don't need your help."

Yohji grabbed the hem of the skirt; Aya's erection was bulging through his panties. "You sure? Sometimes it's easier when you have a hand."

Aya turned his head away.

"Let me give you my card, at least," Yohji said. "Look, it's just my name and the cell phone. Doesn't even say what I am." He dug into his wallet and pulled the card out. Asuka was a genius; they'd gotten tons more tips since she'd thought up these 'personal' cards. "No charge, okay?"

"I told you. I'm not some kind of--"

"The guy tried to kidnap me, and I'm pissed. This isn't about you."

"Are you sure?" Asuka said in his ear, and Yohji was suddenly grateful he didn't blush. His thighs felt cold where Aya'd been sitting.

"Just take the card," Yohji said, and Aya did.

"Thank you," Yohji said.

"Yeah," Aya said, and walked out.

But he'd taken the card.

Yohji reached down and unzipped his fly.

 

 

The cops raided just as he was leaving the private room. He flashed his PI license at them and they all had a nice long talk about exactly what had happened. Of course, Yohji didn't quite know exactly what had happened, but the cops seemed to prefer it that way so it all worked out.

Asuka drove them both home when it was time to go. Turned out Honda was being blackmailed by one of Takatori's sons into helping with the kidnapping scheme; for what purpose, no one had quite figured out. No one could figure out what the son had on Honda, either, which was frustrating.

"Think the wife'll pay us?" Yohji asked, pulling a cigarette out of the pack.

"Probably not," Asuka said. "He might stay out of jail with that confession, though." She put on the turn signal. "If we _did_ get paid, you'd probably just spend it on tips for that Aya guy."

"Shut up," Yohji said, and reached over to flip channels on the radio. Nothing good on. He sighed, leaned back, and lit his cigarette.

"You liked him," she said.

"Yeah," he admitted.

Asuka's mouth quirked up. "Remember the last time you got involved in a case?"

"Hey, this case got involved with _me,_ " he said defensively. "They tried to kidnap me."

"Yeah," she said. "That kind of pissed me off too." She reached over and squeezed Yohji's hand. "Took me this long to train you, I don't want to deal with anyone else."

He grinned. "Thanks, babe."

"But be careful with this guy. I know what a sucker you are for a pretty face."

He lit the cigarette on the dashboard lighter. "Why do you think I hooked up with you?"

She sighed and said, "So do we know anything about this Aya guy?"

"Not yet."

"The things I do for you...."

 

 

***

 

 

Saturday nights were the only nights worth working, but Takatori wanted him on for five days, and for now, he pretended to dance to that asshole's tune. Aya wanted him to think that Tatakori was in charge, that Aya was grateful to his generous benefactor.

He certainly didn't want the bastard to suspect that the katana he used on Saturday nights was kept sharp just for Takatori's head.

It was the only real satisfaction his miserable excuse for a job brought.

He tightened his yukata. Ten minutes until he was on. It was colder than usual backstage tonight; stupid bastard'd probably cut the heat back when he realized his scam was busted, whatever the damn scheme had been in the first place. He'd heard some crazy rumor about using the guys as targets in some kind of human hunting game, but that seemed ludicrous.

He looked in the mirror. The violet yukata matched his eyes, not that anyone noticed onstage. But despite his hatred for the job, he felt some kind of responsibility to do it well.

He looked good and he danced well; he got better tips than most of the dancers, though he didn't make as much from lap dances.

He did have his limits.

He'd gotten another letter from the hospital today; they wanted him to come in to discuss Aya's 'care options.' Though he kept the faint hope he was wrong, he was fairly certain any discussion of 'care options' would end up being another 'no, I won't let you kill my sister' conversation. She still had brain activity. He wouldn't let her go before....

No. She _would_ wake up. She would get better. And he'd go to the hospital on Monday and tell them exactly where they could put their 'care options.'

And he'd keep taking Takatori's money until Aya walked out of that place.

This show was the only good one, the only one that came close to turning him on. The katana...it was _power,_ real power, not the bullshit power the customers thought they had. He walked out of the dressing room and up the hallway. Nobody was getting pulled out of the club tonight; that was a pleasant change. Whatever it was that Takatori'd been doing, it was over now.

The asshole himself nodded to Aya as he approached the stage.

"Usual crowd?"

"Larger than usual," Takatori said. "The...recent excitement brought some strangers out."

Aya rolled his eyes. Rubberneckers. Were they _hoping_ to get kidnapped?

He surveyed the crowd as he walked up to the stage; new faces, most of the regulars, the fat guy with bad breath, the young guy with the black nail polish--

And the private detective from the other night, the talky blond. Kudoh Yohji.

Aya'd forgotten to throw his card out.

 _Great._ The last thing he needed was some asshole grabbing Takatori's attention.

And then his music started and he stopped caring about anything but the performance, the rhythm of it, the sword flashing in his hands.

A few minutes of bump-and-grind to get everyone's attention and then he stood at the edge of the stage, and held the katana out.

It was always a dance here, a balance, keeping the suspense going as long as possible without letting the tension drop.

Kudoh Yohji pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead.

Aya focused and brought the blade up quickly, rocked it back against his shoulder to cut the threads holding the right sleeve on his yukata.

He had designed the costume himself; he re-sewed it together on his days off. Just a few strategically placed threads and a sharp enough katana, and it looked like he was cutting his own clothes to shreds onstage.

Fat Guy's hand was already in his lap; maybe Aya'd get lucky tonight and the guy'd blow his load before he could ask for a lap dance.

On a good night, his body did the movements for him; it was simple, automatic, thoughtless. It wasn't quite that good tonight; the audience kept distracting him, turning his brain back on, Fat Guy sweating more than usual, some guys talking back by the bar, Kudoh Yohji leaning back, legs spread, wide smile on his face. _Asshole,_ Aya thought, and cut off the left sleeve.

He brought the katana up over his head, stretching his bare arms, and tipped the blade down to cut the tie in his hair. He shook it out and loosened his obi. He pulled it back sharply as it came unknotted, gesturing with his blade to make it look like it'd been cut with the rest of the clothing, and wrapped it around his wrist.

The yukata was weighted to stay closed; he moved carefully, jerking with the rhythm, to open it slightly, give the tease the audience was looking for. Kudoh Yohji licked his lips and Aya hesitated for a second, his hand on the fabric's edge.

Aya gritted his teeth and swung the katana around, cutting the yukata fully open. It dropped to the floor and he stepped off the stage, winding the obi back around his waist, letting the fabric hang down just enough to hide all but a glimpse of his cock.

He stopped at the first table and pressed just the tip of the sword under a customer's chin. Heavyset, well dressed, practically salivating...this guy was just the type. Getting threatened by naked strangers charged _his_ batteries; he'd get a good tip there.

Kudoh's hand was down by his lap, and Aya could remember the press of his jeans against his skin. _Don't look. Don't get distracted._ Kudoh winked as he got close, and mouthed _read it_ as he slipped the tip into Aya's obi.

 

Aya looked for a note when he got back to the dressing room. Nothing; just the usual bills, and...wait. One was written on-- just a thousand-yen note, the cheap bastard. _Your girl's in trouble,_ the squarish handwriting said. _Call me._

 _I don't have a girl,_ Aya thought, and then realized that he did.

 

Kudoh Yohji was listed in the phone book; a little more hunting found his apartment, in a decent-but-not-pricey part of Tokyo.

"I didn't feel like calling," he said when Yohji opened the door.

The blond's eyes widened in surprise, but he stepped back and let Aya in. "I would've told you to meet me anyway, I don't trust the cell signal."

Yohji looked...different, in his own space. More comfortable, and more...genuine or something. Not so much the cocky bastard.

Maybe it was just because he wasn't wearing the sunglasses.

"Takatori's getting ready to sell you out," he said, as he closed and locked the door behind them. "Have you ever heard of an organization called Eszett?"

Aya shook his head. Yohji's apartment was cheap and mostly clean, except for a pile of dirty dishes in the sink and an overflowing trash can.

"They want your sister," Yohji said. "I'm not sure why. They've got some kind of jones for her medical records-- we can't really figure that out yet. Takatori's offered to give them anything they want for a price. Sounds like he wants protection of some kind, but we haven't figured that out yet."

"How do you even know this?" he said. "Why should I--"

"You want a drink?" Yohji was already walking away from him, toward the refrigerator. "I got beer, water...maybe there's a Pocari Sweat in here...."

"I don't want to _drink,_ " Aya snapped. "I want answers."

"Calm down," Yohji said, and got a beer out of the fridge. "I'll give you what I have."

Aya grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back against the kitchen counter. "Dammit, I--"

"Don't," Yohji said dangerously, and threw him off. "You don't have any damn idea what kind of a mess you're in; don't get pissed at me for trying to tell you."

"Tell me how you know this," Aya said. "Or think you do."

"A lot of research and a couple good connections." Yohji opened his beer. "Will you just listen? Takatori's trying to sell her medical records, maybe more than that. Maybe a lot more."

"Why?"

Yohji took a long drink and set the beer on the counter. "You must know she's in a pretty weird coma," he said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and slouching against the kitchen counter. He had a button-down shirt on, completely unbuttoned, without a t-shirt and low-slung, faded jeans; Aya could see his stomach muscles, a faint hint of hair above the button of the jeans.

He couldn't answer Yohji; his heart was racing too quickly. If this idiot could find out so much, so quickly....

Maybe he wasn't as dumb as he looked.

 _Please_ let him not be as dumb as he looked.

"So anyway," Yohji said, lighting a cigarette, "there's something about her Eszett wants." He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe they're looking for eternal youth. Takatori heard they were looking for someone like her and put out the word. It's just feelers, so far, but...he's dangling the information out for some kind of prize. Protection, money, your guess is as good as mine, might be better." He took a deep inhale, let the smoke stream out through his nostrils.

"What kind of connections do you have?" Aya said. "How do you know...."

"My partner knows the other side of the Takatori family," he said. "The legit side. They--"

This came as a surprise. "There's a legit side?"

"Commissioner of Police legit," Yohji said. "His brother. They split for good when he ran off with your Takatori's wife."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Yohji said. "No love lost there."

"And you've got connections," Aya said.

"Yeah."

Aya looked at him. "What's your game?" he asked. "What are you getting out of this? Power? Sex?"

"No," Yohji said. "I mean...." He looked down Aya's body. "I wouldn't say no if you offered but...it's not about sex." He got off the counter and grabbed his beer, took a swallow. "My partner...we've been friends for damn near forever, you know? She's...she's special. Like the sister I never had, you know?" He put his beer back down on the counter. "If someone tried to _use_ her like that...shit. I don't know what I'd do." There was real emotion in his voice now. "They say the asshole tried to turn me into a human target, too; some kind of crazy hunting game. Now we both want to bring him down. And if you can help too..." He looked up and grinned. "The more the merrier, right?"

Yohji's mask was back up, but it'd dipped down for a second, and Aya couldn't see him the same way now.

Aya walked closer. Yohji was muscular, bulkier than Aya, broader. Aya reached out and caught the tail of Yohji's shirt with his fingers, pulled the fabric back.

"I'll do this," Yohji said. ""I'll help you. Don't do this if it's just--"

"No," Aya said. "I--"

_"Yohji!"_

They both jumped.

"I thought we were meeting about the case tonight, Yohji."

A woman; dark-haired, pretty, kind of a tomboy look about her. She was scowling.

"Hey," Yohji said cheerfully, moving smoothly away from Aya. "Asuka."

Aya lifted an eyebrow at him.

Yohji, not seeming to mind at all that _two_ people were glaring at him for an explanation, grabbed his beer again and stubbed out his cigarette. "My partner, Asuka," he said. "Asuka, this is Fujimiya Ran."

"Oh," she said. Her glare softened a little. "Well. Let's get to work, then."

She made Yohji spread her notes out while she busied herself straightening up his apartment. They had a weird vibe: not quite siblings, not quite lovers, teasing each other as they worked, Yohji cynically calling her "Mom."

 _This is why he's taking the case personally,_ Aya thought to himself, as they went through theories and facts and Asuka stole swigs out of Yohji's beer can.

Aya wasn't entirely sure about her. She was pushy, and sometimes she held too tightly to her own theories; Yohji would have to bully her before she'd condescend to change her mind. Still, she was smart, and she and Yohji had gotten more information on Takatori Reiji in less than a week than Aya'd gotten in the years he'd been looking. He was ashamed, but a certain relief came with it; that he was no longer fighting alone, that his sister might have something better to think about than hospital bills and their creepy 'benefactor' when she woke up.

"My parents...they were good people," he said. "When they died...no one could believe it. But...they had to believe _something_ and...." He shook his head. "He did it. I know he did. And then he came to me, like he was doing me a _favor...."_ He realized he'd interrupted the conversation completely. "I'm sorry, I--"

"It's all right," Asuka said, her voice unexpectedly soft.

"Must've been hard," Yohji said, "not having anyone believe you. You were just a kid, right?"

"Eighteen," he said. "Not that young. And I don't want your pity."

"You won't get it from me," Asuka said. "Don't worry." She got up and walked over to the fridge, got out a beer.

"Her folks got killed when she was fourteen," Yohji said. "That's how we got into this business in the first place."

"We never did catch him," she said, opening the beer. "Died a couple years ago; somebody cut him up pretty good. Can't say I felt too bad, but...I wanted to be the one, you know? I wanted to bring him to justice."

Aya nodded at her.

These two were making a lot more sense as the night wore on.

And Yohji...Yohji looked pretty good. He was leaning back in his chair, his shirt falling open, long legs propped up on the table. He lit another cigarette and glanced over at Aya. There was real desire in that glance, and it made Aya stop thinking altogether for a moment.

Since the explosion and the accident, he hadn't allowed himself any distractions. Any....

Asuka was saying something to Yohji, but Aya was too busy looking at Yohji, the thin dark hair on his chest, the way his cheeks hollowed when he inhaled.

Yohji's hand had been creeping toward his, and his thumb was just rubbing against the side of Aya's pinky now.

"Are you even listening?" Asuka said.

"What?" Aya and Yohji said together.

She shook her head. "Forget it. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

"Asuka--" Yohji looked like a guilty child.

"It's all right," she said, and got up. "I'll call if anything comes up."

"You're a doll," Yohji said, getting up and kissing her cheek.

"Just try to stay out of trouble," she said, and kissed him back. She nodded her head at Aya, and he nodded back.

"You okay?" Yohji asked as the door closed.

"Fine," he said, and got up. "I'm going to see my sister in the morning, so...."

"Okay, Yohji said, not bothering to keep the disappointment in his voice. "I can drive you home."

"No, you don't--"

Yohji had walked very close to him. "You know, it's okay," he said. "To let someone help you."

"I--"

"C'mon," Yohji said. "You need to relax. Damn, you're wound up tight."

"I need to go home," Aya said. "It's getting late--"

"C'mere," Yohji said, and pulled him in.

Aya used to like getting touched, used to crave it. When he was a kid he'd climb into his parents' bed in the mornings, and he'd hold his sister when she had nightmares, stay with her until the morning.

Now it was hard to even reach out and hold her hand.

Yohji was close, so close, one hand around Aya's wrist, the free one stroking his back, so gentle, so light.

"Could you--" Shit. He had to get a grip on himself.

"What?" Yohji was just standing there, _waiting._ Waiting for him. Like he had all night and most of the next day.

"Just-- just-- maybe you could hold me?" He bit his lip. He should've said something else, should've left, should've....

"Yeah," Yohji said. His voice was very soft. "Yeah, baby." His hand released Aya's wrist and wrapped around his waist.

"Don't call me that," Aya said.

"Feels weird, calling you Aya," Yohji said, pulling him closer, burying his face down in his shoulder. "Could I call you--"

"No," Aya said, too quickly. "No, don't--"

"It's okay," Yohji said, stroking his back still. "It's okay. I won't call you anything you don't want me to, okay?"

Aya was shaking. He was _shaking._ Shit. He had to get out. He couldn't....

"It's okay," Yohji said again, and squeezed him. "Nothing you don't want. Damn, you smell good."

Yohji smelled like overpriced cologne and takeout food and beer and cigarettes, none of which Aya liked. He leaned into Yohji's body anyway, rough blond hair against his face.

He'd been so careful. He hadn't had time to go out, and he was always so tired during the day, and there was Aya to worry about, and....

Yohji's shirt was a weird fabric; sheer, plastic-feeling. His skin was still cold under Aya's palm.

"Mmm," Yohji said. "You're warm."

"You should keep your shirt buttoned, if you're cold," Aya said, feeling like an idiot for saying it.

"Don't feel cold," Yohji said. "'Sides, you're warming me up."

 _I should go,_ he thought. _I should go now, should've gone ten minutes ago._ "Aya-- she's the only thing that matters," he said. "She's--"

"What'll you tell her?" Yohji said. "When she wakes up? When she asks you what you've been doing?"

Aya laughed, but it caught in his throat.

"Is this what she'd--"

"Don't ask me that," he growled. "She doesn't-- she was just a kid. She just--"

"I know," Yohji said, still stroking. "I know. Why don't you stay? I can pull out the futon if you want. Or we could just share the bed. We don't have to do--"

 _But I want to,_ Aya thought. _I want to do everything._

"You eaten anything?" Yohji asked. "You want dinner? We could get some takeout, or I've got stuff in the cupboards, ramen and curry and that shit--"

He hadn't eaten. Since he'd gotten that scribbled note, eating hadn't really occurred to him, though he had a vague memory of something at breakfast. "You want a pizza?" he heard himself asking. Yesterday's tips had been good; he could afford to pay.

"Yeah," Yohji said, and kissed him, a quick peck on the lips. "Pizza's good."

They argued over toppings for ten minutes, but Aya won, and they set the table while they waited for the food to come.

Yohji caught him around the waist after he'd put the last plate down, pulled him in for a kiss, long, slow, sensual.

Aya slipped both hands under Yohji's shirt this time, touching cool smooth skin, finding shoulders, armpit, back, feeling the muscles work as Yohji moved against him.

They were still kissing when the pizza came.

 

Yohji talked about Asuka as they ate; how they'd met, how they'd been friends just about forever, how great it was to have a best friend as smart and interesting as her.

"Did you ever--"

"Didn't work out," Yohji said. "It's better this way, anyway. I'd go crazy if I had to live with her. Did you see the way she messes with my place?"

Aya almost laughed. "She's kind of...possessive."

"She needs a boyfriend," Yohji said. "Then she can just order me around about work." He looked at Aya over his beer. "I think she liked you."

 _The seal of approval, huh?_ He let Yohji touch his hand, casually, when he reached for another piece of pizza.

He hadn't seen himself as lonely. Not really. It...it hadn't even occurred to him that he might be.

And one guy wanted to eat pizza with him and it was like the sun shining for the first time in years.

He reached out with his foot and just brushed Yohji's ankle, and Yohji smiled at him, and Aya smiled back.

 

He insisted on helping Yohji clean up-- somehow he knew it'd never get done otherwise-- and Yohji caught him by the waist as he was putting the pizza box in the fridge, kissed him hard, pushed his back against the fridge, and Aya pushed back, pushed back hard, hands sliding back under that stupid plastic shirt, and he pulled it down over Yohji's arms and off as Yohji attacked his mouth.

Aya _wanted_ this, craved it, he'd missed being touched, _really_ touched, not some asshole in the back of the club making him feel like trash, something like _this,_ Yohji's hands grabbing at his shirt, Yohji whispering, "you're a hell of a kisser" into his ear, his lips brushing Aya's earlobe and making him shudder.

They stumbled into the bedroom, into Yohji's unkempt bed, tiny lamp by the bedside, cotton sheets, Yohji's skin warming up fast under his hands, thin, worn jeans pushed down and kicked to the floor.

Aya kept his pants on, leaned down, took Yohji warm and hard into his hand, foreskin like silk under his fingers, Yohji shoving a condom into his hand and muttering, "Don't be stupid."

"Right," Aya said distantly, and put it on before he took Yohji into his mouth. It was _mint-flavored._ Aya rolled his eyes and thought about taking it off.

"Don't be stupid," Yohji said again, twisting his torso toward Aya. "You don't know where I've been. And I do." And then his hands were back on Aya, pulling his pants off, driving Aya _crazy_ with light, teasing touches, sliding his boxers off, just touching him--

And then Yohji moved a little too far to the right and fell off the bed.

Aya started laughing and couldn't stop.

"Shut _up,_ " Yohji whined, getting back up. "It's not--" He caught Aya's eye and started laughing too, but he rallied enough to pin Aya down on the bed for a moment. "It's not _that_ funny, dammit!"

Aya caught his breath for a moment, looked at Yohji's too-serious face, and started laughing all over again.

They both laughed then, and then Aya shoved Yohji back off the bed, and they wrestled for a while, still laughing. Finally they collapsed, side by side, on the bed.

"You okay?" Yohji said.

"Yeah. Yeah," Aya said, trying not to start laughing again.

"Shit." Yohji rubbed his face with his hand; there were tears in his eyes from laughing. "I'm not very smooth tonight, am I?"

"I don't like smooth anyway," Aya said, and kissed him.

 

Smooth or not, Yohji was good in bed; he jerked Aya off, and then later-- much later-- Aya came in his mouth, gasping against Yohji's body, whispering his name over and over. Yohji peeled the condoms off and handed Aya some tissues to wipe up with. Aya closed his eyes and just let his head rest on Yohji's pillow as Yohji got back in bed and pulled Aya into his arms.

"I should get back to my place." He _had_ to get going. He had to go to the hospital in the morning and....

"You can stay as long as you want." Yohji said, stroking his hair, long, careful touches from the crown of his head to his shoulder. "I don't mind company. It's whatever you want, okay? Just...let me touch you for a minute. I like...I like afterward."

"Okay," he said, and let Yohji nestle closer beside him. This job made him so tired. This _life_ made him so tired.

He shouldn't stay.

God, it was warm.

He should tell Yohji to stop stroking his hair. He was going to fall asleep.

 

Yohji was making coffee when he woke up in the morning. He smiled when he heard Aya. "How'd you sleep?" he asked, without turning his head. He was shirtless this morning, wearing the jeans from last night.

"All right," Aya said, his own pants and shirt back on, remembering where the bathroom was and turning toward it.

"You want breakfast?"

He frowned. "What time is--"

"Visiting hours aren't for another two hours."

"Oh," Aya said.

"I called. I figured I'd take you," Yohji said, and looked up at him. "Give you more time to get around. You want something? I got eggs. Or we could go out, if you want."

"Eggs are okay," Aya said. "Thanks."

Yohji smiled, and Aya saw how much his face relaxed. "You should talk more," he said, walking to the fridge.

"Eggs are _really_ okay?"

Yohji laughed. "Go," he said, gesturing. "Take a shower. They'll be ready when you get out."

 

Yohji dropped him off around the corner from the hospital; Takatori came around sometimes, and they didn't want to take chances. The charge nurse smiled at him when he got up to Aya's floor; she was one of the good ones, and she always tried to give him hope. She wouldn't be at that meeting about 'treatment options.'

He'd brought Aya a rose that Yohji had insisted on paying for; he put it in the vase they kept in her room for her flowers.

He pulled up a chair and sat down at her bedside.

He took her hand. She was warm, and it was a comfort to watch her breathing.

"Aya," he said. "I need you to know. I...I met someone."


End file.
